Unexpected Letter
by bookwormfantastic
Summary: future of the original hunger games enjoy x and review. make sure you have read all of the trilogy before reading this . x
1. The Letter

**Chapter 2 **

I sighed in anger when I turned over for the 20th time. I reached out till I grabbed a wire I followed it along till a found the switch. In seconds the room filled with light I squinted at the sudden brightness then as my sight adjusted I look at my clock. I had been tossing and turning for almost an hour now and I was fed up.

My dreams during the few minutes of sleep I was actually asleep, were riddled with nightmares each on connected to the letter, each one ending with me losing a family member or myself dying. Maybe it was a bit extreme after all it was only a letter but there was something about it that made my stomach churn. What I know would help would be to talk about it. As a child I would explain my nightmares to my father who always managed to make things better, but now I know that if I was to tell anyone that would tell me to stop being silly, just like they did when I was five. I was fed up and I know there is no use of me staying in bed.

I carefully stood up and tiptoed across the room not making a sound I walked as though I was hunting prey, unnoticeable. The house was silent, from my room all I could hear was the peaceful snoring from my brother, who was probably in a whole other world. Like every 10 year old, undisturbed by curiosity of a pearly white letter, and I didn't want to wake him. I open my door and cursed inside my head when it creaked. I silently tiptoed across the corridor and into the bath room.

Once Inside, I turned on the light and looked into the mirror. The person staring back looked completely different. Her jet black hair had knotted and frizzed up around her face her blue eye looked tired and confused, shadowed with heavy black rings, her olive-toned skin pale from sleep deprivation.

She turned the tap on and washed her face to try and calm down she had a headache from all the questions. She didn't understand why this letter wouldn't leave her mind. Suddenly she heard voices from down below. They where muffled by the floor so she couldn't make out words she could feel the blood leaving her face. Could they be the people behind the letter? What did they want? Even with her fear she couldn't dismiss her curiosity. Her body urged her to go down stairs to find the people behind the voices and listen to what they have to say. She would be safe as long as they didn't hear her. Quietly she opened the bathroom door and turned off the light slowly she took a step outside she tried to picture the layout of the house in her mind.

"Two steps forward" I whisper to myself forcing my body to move "one to the right" I obey my orders and find myself at the top of the stairs. Slowly I take one step down and another and another, until I'm at the bottom. I take a deep breath and sit on the bottom step closing my eyes I concentrate my senses and mind onto the intruders voices. But all I can hear was my hammering heart. I hoped that they wouldn't be able to hear it. Suddenly I heard a voice.

"What do you think it means?" I was shocked to hear my father's voice. Suddenly I realised there were no strangers roaming my house other than my parents. I cursed at myself for being so stupid

"I don't know." My mother's voice sounded tired, hoarse as though she had been crying. I've never seen my mother cry. Not a single tear. There have been many times when I have seen my mother close to tears; her beautiful grey eyes turn watery, with a broken expression cracking through her mask. But I have never seen a single tear fall. I've seen her afraid. Her mask still in place but I have seen it in her eyes. I've watched her hands grip tightly onto the back of a chair or my father's hand. I watch her zone out of this world into her place of nightmares, gone for no more than a couple of seconds before returning back as normal, as though nothing happened. But I've seen it. Curiosity from the conversation pulls me back.

"It's been so many years" my father sounded afraid as well as confused

"They never forget. Just like us" that was Haymitch whose voice sounded slurred. Damn it mother! You let him drink. I shouted at her in my head but it only made me more afraid. What scared her enough to let him do that? What had happened so many years ago? What couldn't they forget? And finally, why couldn't I know? I stood up and tiptoed up the stairs once on my bed again I turned off my light and closed my eyes. Tomorrow I'm going to find that letter and find out myself what was worrying them. I promised myself. Tomorrow.


	2. The Fear

**Chapter 2 **

I sighed in anger when I turned over for the 20th time. I reached out till I grabbed a wire I followed it along till a found the switch. In seconds the room filled with light I squinted at the sudden brightness then as my sight adjusted I look at my clock. I had been tossing and turning for almost an hour now and I was fed up.

My dreams during the few minutes of sleep I was actually asleep, were riddled with nightmares each on connected to the letter, each one ending with me losing a family member or myself dying. Maybe it was a bit extreme after all it was only a letter but there was something about it that made my stomach churn. What I know would help would be to talk about it. As a child I would explain my nightmares to my father who always managed to make things better, but now I know that if I was to tell anyone that would tell me to stop being silly, just like they did when I was five. I was fed up and I know there is no use of me staying in bed.

I carefully stood up and tiptoed across the room not making a sound I walked as though I was hunting prey, unnoticeable. The house was silent, from my room all I could hear was the peaceful snoring from my brother, who was probably in a whole other world. Like every 10 year old, undisturbed by curiosity of a pearly white letter, and I didn't want to wake him. I open my door and cursed inside my head when it creaked. I silently tiptoed across the corridor and into the bath room.

Once Inside, I turned on the light and looked into the mirror. The person staring back looked completely different. Her jet black hair had knotted and frizzed up around her face her blue eye looked tired and confused, shadowed with heavy black rings, her olive-toned skin pale from sleep deprivation.

She turned the tap on and washed her face to try and calm down she had a headache from all the questions. She didn't understand why this letter wouldn't leave her mind. Suddenly she heard voices from down below. They where muffled by the floor so she couldn't make out words she could feel the blood leaving her face. Could they be the people behind the letter? What did they want? Even with her fear she couldn't dismiss her curiosity. Her body urged her to go down stairs to find the people behind the voices and listen to what they have to say. She would be safe as long as they didn't hear her. Quietly she opened the bathroom door and turned off the light slowly she took a step outside she tried to picture the layout of the house in her mind.

"Two steps forward" I whisper to myself forcing my body to move "one to the right" I obey my orders and find myself at the top of the stairs. Slowly I take one step down and another and another, until I'm at the bottom. I take a deep breath and sit on the bottom step closing my eyes I concentrate my senses and mind onto the intruders voices. But all I can hear was my hammering heart. I hoped that they wouldn't be able to hear it. Suddenly I heard a voice.

"What do you think it means?" I was shocked to hear my father's voice. Suddenly I realised there were no strangers roaming my house other than my parents. I cursed at myself for being so stupid

"I don't know." My mother's voice sounded tired, hoarse as though she had been crying. I've never seen my mother cry. Not a single tear. There have been many times when I have seen my mother close to tears; her beautiful grey eyes turn watery, with a broken expression cracking through her mask. But I have never seen a single tear fall. I've seen her afraid. Her mask still in place but I have seen it in her eyes. I've watched her hands grip tightly onto the back of a chair or my father's hand. I watch her zone out of this world into her place of nightmares, gone for no more than a couple of seconds before returning back as normal, as though nothing happened. But I've seen it. Curiosity from the conversation pulls me back.

"It's been so many years" my father sounded afraid as well as confused

"They never forget. Just like us" that was Haymitch whose voice sounded slurred. Damn it mother! You let him drink. I shouted at her in my head but it only made me more afraid. What scared her enough to let him do that? What had happened so many years ago? What couldn't they forget? And finally, why couldn't I know? I stood up and tiptoed up the stairs once on my bed again I turned off my light and closed my eyes. Tomorrow I'm going to find that letter and find out myself what was worrying them. I promised myself. Tomorrow.


	3. The Curiosity

**Chapter 3**

I stood outside school waiting for my brother. His class usually came out later than mine. School had been the last thing on my mind today throughout lessons my mind tried to put information together seeking the answer to the mystery letter.

"Palila?" his voice snapped me back into reality

"Hi sorry" I grasped his hand and turned to the direction of our home. Dannyl looked uneasy he didn't always hide his emotions like mother and me.

"Palila? What's wrong?"

"Nothing I'm just a little tired" I was a smooth enough liar for him to drop the subject and relax. Inside I crumbled with curiosity. Each step closer to the house was a step closer to the letter.

It took us ten minutes to reach our house though for me it felt like an hour I opened the door to find down stairs empty. My brother ran up the stairs and into his bedroom leaving me in privacy to search downstairs. My father must be in his study and my mother was probably out in the market or hunting she always liked to keep busy.

I had to do my search quietly or my father would hear me. I started in the kitchen rifling through draws but being careful to leave everything as I had found it. My parents weren't stupid they could tell if things were suddenly messy, and since that letter I'm sure they would find it suspicious. I was getting nowhere and frustration was building inside of me.

I abandoned the kitchen and ran into the living room. There, I found the pearl white envelope on the cupboard. Of course last night this is where they were talking. I rushed out to the door grabbed my coat and pulled on my boots I was about to run outside when I saw my game bag, now empty, on the stairs. I grabbed it.

"I'm going hunting I'll be home later" I called up the stairs before fleeing the house I sprinted out, my game back hitting me on the back and the letter crumpling in my tight grip. I didn't stop till I had crossed the meadow and reached the fence. I stopped for only a minute to catch my breath before crawling under the fence and into the woods. From there I kept running. Jumping over fallen trees and scaring away any animals nearby. I didn't care, and I didn't stop till I reached my hidden rock ledge.

I collapsed on the floor in a heap, gasping for air. I did it! I had found the letter. I sat up leaning against the rock. My hands were shaking still gripping tightly onto the letter I traced my fingers over the careful handwriting. I had been waiting all day to open the letter, yet now my fingers wouldn't do it. I closed my eyes and counted to three breathing slowly. When I re-opened them my hands had stopped shaking. In my head Haymitch's warning rung, loud and clear. I stared terrified at the letter. Suddenly I reached inside the envelope and yanked out the letter within.


	4. The Threat

**Chapter 4 **

No history can be completely forgotten,

No lies can be forever hidden

No Mockingjay can live forever

Again, and again, my eyes scanned over the careful writing. My body stiff, frozen with fear. Tears rolled down my face, salty droplets of dread, each one reaching my chin and falling onto the rocky ground, silent tears, which streamed without my permission. I didn't need to understand the riddle to know that it was a threat. I feared not only for my life but for my parents, my little brother, for our home. My heart was pounding in my chest; every heartbeat was as loud as bass drum, hammering abnormally quickly. So I sat there and cried. I don't really know why, but I couldn't stop it. I never really cried much. My brother does all the time, and it's not because I'm so strong or fearless, it's because in my entire life I've had nothing to cry about, until now.

I wrapped my arms around myself and rocked back and forth. I felt so weak and defenceless, I didn't really understand why; I'm strong and lethal with a bow, what could scare me? I stand up, still crying and headed to the hollow tree. It was a simple task, others would probably get lost out here, but I've been in here since the day I could walk, and I can find my way around even if my sight is blurred with tears. When I reach the tree I retrieve my bow and quiver and take a minute to study my weapons. I wipe my wet eyes with my coat sleeves. In all these years I'd never really taken time to look at the wood and shape of my most precious item. I know that my mother takes deep pride in her bows. We have three that we keep in the woods. Mine has my initials engraved in, P.R.M, Palila Rose Mellark. I reach down into the hollow tree to pull out another object. I smile as I pull out a thick tree branch. At one end, part of the bark had been stripped. I turn towards my right and start walking.

Leaves around me sparkle as scattered rays of light shine through the ceiling of leaves above me. Bird's wings flutter all around me coming from different directions, animals scatter and run along the forest floor. I find a sharp stone on the floor and while I walk I strip the branch of its bark rubbing the stone back and forth. I find the motion soothing calming. After half an hour I find a high and sturdy tree. I put all my objects in my game bag and slowly begin to climb. My feet get grips on every dent and crack expertly gripping tightly, and in a matter of minutes I had reached 50 metres high. I find myself a fork formed by to adjacent branches to sit on, and lean back finding it surprisingly comfortable.

I take out my rock and branch from my bag and continue stripping the bark. I look out at the view my tree provides. I can see 100's of metres around me, tops of trees each a different shade of green, different colours emerge between the leaves, feathers of blue and yellow and every colour in the imagination. Around me I can hear different songs between different birds, some high and some low. I find myself humming along with the melodies, still stripping my bark.

In the distance I can make out a lake. I have visited the lake a couple of times. I find it beautiful the shimmering water freezing cold from the touch. Clear as glass, cold as ice. I find myself laughing at the memories associated with the lake. I remember one summer, three years back mother was teaching my father to swim. I remember watching them from the shore, splashing around. My mother had a graceful technique and could reach high speeds whereas my father could hardly keep his head above the water for more than a couple of seconds. I remember begging her to teach me, then learning it within a couple of weeks. My father's technique never improved and my brother was too afraid of the water to even walk in further than knee height. I remember the speed competitions between mother and me, racing through the water, fighting over who was the winner.

I bring myself back to the present when I feel a tear trickling down my cheek. I wipe it away before it reaches my chin and concentrate on stripping the bark. Soon enough there was no more bark left on the branch leaving a soft brown wood ready for me to shape. I start to cut away at parts of the branch adding curves of precision and beauty. While I carved, I watched the sun pass through the sky.

After about four hours, I knew that I would have to leave. I look down at my branch it was slowly changing. Its original shape was unrecognisable and it was beginning to look like the final product. When I reach the bottom I use my stone to create a marking to show which tree I was sitting on, knowing that someday soon I would want to return. From there I start to head back to the hollow tree. On my walk back I focus on my feet, anything to keep my mind busy, anyway to forget the letter, anyway to stop myself from falling apart.


End file.
